


whatever you please

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: “Anything,” he had whispered fiercely into the curve of Qui-Gon’s neck as they stumbled into the bedroom, but Qui-Gon seems content just to watch him for now.Or, Qui-Gon's had a bad day and Obi-Wan gives him whatever he wants to help him unwind.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 196





	whatever you please

**Author's Note:**

> From this anonymous prompt on Tumblr: "We see a lot of (amazing) fics abt comforting Obi Wan, but what about something hot where Qui-Gon is the stressed or tired one? Obi Wan maybe lets Qui-Gon use him however he likes or maybe Obi Wan rides/treats him. This would even be nice as a sfw fic, I just would like to try Qui-Gon on the receiving end of the comfort."

“ _Anything_ ,” he had whispered fiercely into the curve of Qui-Gon’s neck as they stumbled into the bedroom, but Qui-Gon seems content just to watch him for now. Obi-Wan fucks himself back down as slowly as he can, and Qui-Gon’s eyelids flutter half-closed as his head tilts back against the pillows of their bed.

Obi-Wan leans forward just a little more, his hands braced against the endless expanse of Qui-Gon’s shoulders. Even spread out beneath him like this, Qui-Gon seems to tower. The breadth of his chest, the size of his hands—it never fails to send pleasure coiling down Obi-Wan’s spine. He lifts up and up and _up_ until only the head of Qui-Gon’s cock still stretches him open, and his thighs tremble with the strain and the arousal of it. There’s enough sweat and lube between them that it’s becoming difficult to find the right purchase against Qui-Gon’s skin.

It’s more than worth the effort, though, for the look on Qui-Gon’s face; it’s tense in a much different way than it has been of late. The Council relies on him too heavily these days, in Obi-Wan’s very decided opinion—even if he _can_ admit they have little choice, between the threat of the Sith and the discontent spiraling through the galaxy.

The head of Qui-Gon’s cock drags relentlessly against his prostate on the next downstroke, and Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to choke back the delirious sound it pulls from his throat. There’s no need to be reticent, here in this room; Qui-Gon has made it no secret that he craves Obi-Wan’s sounds. It makes him almost dizzy, sometimes, to know that he’s allowed to do this—to bring Qui-Gon pleasure with his body and to receive it in return.

His thighs slip a little, and Qui-Gon makes a small noise of sympathy and regret when his cock slips out of Obi-Wan’s clenching hole. Obi-Wan breathes through the loss of that stretch and tries to steady himself.

He slips a little more.

“Qui-Gon,” he says raggedly, because he’s desperate for the friction. He wants to be moving again, wants the steady drive of Qui-Gon within his body, wants to make Qui-Gon's face go loose with the feel of it.

Before the second syllable is even out, a pair of broad hands comes up to bracket his hips, guiding Obi-Wan back to where he should be. They dig in just a little, and Obi-Wan feels almost dizzy with it as Qui-Gon eases him back down at the slow pace he had been struggling to maintain on his own.

Obi-Wan stutters out his approval, letting Qui-Gon take more of his weight. His head hangs down and he stares dazedly at the way his own cock smears fluid against Qui-Gon’s stomach. The air is full of wet, deliberate sound as Qui-Gon continues lifting and rocking him back down, and the thought of those hands and the strength they hold to manipulate Obi-Wan’s body in this way…

“You can go faster,” Obi-Wan rasps, and he doesn’t care if he sounds like he’s pleading because he _is_. “As fast as you want. Of Force, Qui-Gon, you can....” He can’t even get the rest of the words out. There’s no air in his lungs, in the room, in the _temple_.

“What if I want you just like this?” Qui-Gon asks, his voice hoarse as he grinds Obi-Wan’s hips down and just holds them there. His cock is pressing right against Obi-Wan’s prostate, and the pressure is so ecstatic that Obi-Wan’s fingers scrabble against his shoulders.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan pants. He lifts his head to see Qui-Gon smiling a little, and Obi-Wan would lean forward to taste the warm curve of those lips if it didn’t mean overbalancing and losing the pressure inside of him. “ _Qui-Gon_.”

His hips lift slowly back up in Qui-Gon’s hands, but Qui-Gon’s cock drags against that spot just right and he has to close his eyes against the pleasure.

“Even if I keep you here for hours?” Qui-Gon’s voice would be almost lazy if it wasn’t so rough.

“Yes.”

“What if I don’t let you come?” Obi-Wan’s hips come down for another slow press. “What if I want to do _this_ until you’re begging for it?” The movement continues, unceasing now as Qui-Gon pulls Obi-Wan down on him again and again, but its so slow and shallow that Obi-Wan thinks he could do it. He could hold Obi-Wan in those hands all night, moving him at will, and never let him fall over the edge. He could fuck into Obi-Wan again, and again, and again, until Obi-Wan is even more of a shaking and pliant mess than he already is.

“ _Please_.” Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he’s asking _please, yes_ or _please let me come_. Both, he thinks hysterically.

Qui-Gon gives him one more thrust, and then his hands are trailing from Obi-Wan’s hips down to this thighs, slowly so that it’s not unexpected. When he speaks again, Obi-Wan feels it rumble beneath his hands. “What if I want to lie back and watch you fuck yourself on me again?”

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut more tightly for a moment and then pries them back open, trying to breathe through the haze of lust. Qui-Gon’s fingers are drawing gentle circles on his thighs, but his face is flushed and intent as he waits to see what Obi-Wan will do. Obi-Wan struggles to lift his hips up, manages a shaky stroke on his own, gasps as he comes down a little harder than he had expected to. Light seems to flare along his senses, and _oh_ , he needs to slow down if Qui-Gon wants him to drag this out.

He tries to raise himself again, feels his limbs strain, and very suddenly Qui-Gon is cursing and sitting up. Obi-Wan’s thighs spread a little wider as they settle more firmly around Qui-Gon’s hips, and then Qui-Gon is rolling him to his back, pressing down into him, _up_ into him.

“ _Gods_ , Obi-Wan,” he breathes. “You’re too good to me. Come on, now. What I want is for you to come.”

And, well…

Obi-Wan had promised him anything, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the prompter, and thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
